


The Restaurant

by rapunzariccia



Series: DGA [3]
Category: Original Work
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-06
Updated: 2015-02-06
Packaged: 2018-03-10 19:05:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3300353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rapunzariccia/pseuds/rapunzariccia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>mag and sar make an awful wonderful bet. asher and efrain aren't in on it. big bucks are at stake!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> thank u based amdam

it's been a month.  
  
one month since their first foray into the strange, foreign territory that is _double dating_. one month since they all got dressed up and tried to spend some time together. four weeks since she'd unsubtlely fisted her boyfriend under the table and tested his patience - and everyone else's. a whole, entire month.  
  
maker help them, they were back to planning it out again, like the last time hadn't been a total disaster, like they could pretend they were well-adjusted adults with normally functioning relationships that didn't engage in bets over their partners' sexual endurance.  
  
"you really think you're going to win?"  
"you have no idea what you're letting yourself in for. prepare to weep."  
  
sar and mag are sitting at the kitchen table in their finery, looking as serious as though they were taking part in any old business transaction. mag keeps adjusting her dress and hair, fidgeting as though she's nervous. sar is leaning back and trying not to smirk. he looks like he has this in the bag.  
  
"why not make it a little more fun, then?" he asks. mag stops trying to tease her hair. "i'll throw down fifty. we're there for what, three, four hours? keep count of how many times he comes - we'll exchange scores when we're walking out."  
"the restaurant is the only place? not the street?"  
"right," he confirms. "walking there and back is cheating. if you have a higher score than me, i'll give you fifty bucks. if i win, you'll give me fifty."  
"done," mag says without a second's hesitation. sar whistles, low and impressed.  
" _someone_ thinks they're gonna win."  
  
mag snorts inelegantly and leans back in her chair, mimicking sar's relaxed pose. she looks smug. she looks lik there's no way she's going to win. sar feels a prickling of doubt at the back of his mind.  
"how about we make it even sweeter, then? if you think you're going to win so badly - i make asher cry. full out sobbing, can't talk, can't walk. i win whether or not your score is higher."  
  
efrain chooses that moment to walk into the kitchen, interrupting their conversation. he's wearing a grey suit and looks uncomfortable.  
"you look good," mag says. "but you look like you're choking. undo your top button, efrain, you'll breathe easier that way."  
"it's not that," he says, and frowns. "it's- never mind. emails from professors."  
mag makes a sympathetic face and stands. "i'm going to go check on asher, make sure he hasn't fallen asleep instead of get his clothes on. sar - what do you think about that last one? yes, no?"  
sar hesitates, pretending that he's focused on sorted out the crease in efrain's jacket. "sure. yeah - sure, okay. go grab asher, or we'll be late."  
  
he doesn't see mag's smirk as she leaves.  
  


* * *

  
  
they get a few strange looks as they walk to the restaurant, mostly because they're young and dressed up. it's a nice area, but it still hosts a college and a booming student population, most of whom can't be bothered to get dressed for class, let alone go out on nice dates every once in a while. it's still early, too; the sun hasn't fully sunk below the horizon. not everyone's finished work yet. they must cut a strange figure, the four of them in suits and dresses making their way towards a restaurant.  
  
it's a fancy place, too. the waiters are in suits - one of them is carrying a towel on his forearm, like some kind of asshole from the movies - and they're led to their table without fuss. there are a few other parties here, but for the most part it's still fairly empty. that will change by the evening. this place is popular - asher had to call ahead 3 weeks in advance.  
  
"so," mag says as their drinks arrive. "efrain. shitty professors?"  
her flatmate rolls his eyes. "when aren't they shitty? you know how it is - moving deadlines around, changing essay questions around without telling us. a nightmare."  
"history sounds like a pain in the ass," sar says. mag snorts.  
"doesn't it just? now, lit," she says, and grabs a breadstick from their basket to jab at them meaningfully. "we don't do that kind of stuff. our professors are GOOD to us."  
"doesn't stop you complaining every other day," asher says quietly. mag giggles and bites the tip of the breadstick.  
"what about law, sweetheart? you don't actually talk about your tutors too often."  
"that's because they're decent people." he coughs, takes a sip of water. "decent people doing an honest job instead of _pretending to be intelligent for money_."  
"wow," mag says. "that's rude."  
"i'm quoting _you_ ," he says back, incredulous. mag thinks for a minute.  
"oh, yeah, that does sound like me."  
  
the conversation carries for some time, until the waiter comes back with their food. mag has already sprayed breadcrumbs all over her side of the table and hastily sweeps them onto the floor before the waiter can judge her. the conversation lulls as they start to eat, until asher reaches out for his glass of water and finds it empty.  
"thirsty?" mag says, one eyebrow raised. asher hums agreement and doesn't make eye contact with her.   
  


* * *

  
  
they've been there for an hour and a half when the place starts filling up. they've already eaten and are content just using up table space. efrain's taken off his jacket and loosened his tie, and asher has gone through three glasses of water. they're both being surprisingly quiet. sar and mag share a look, and then a grin.  
  
"is everything okay?" she asks, feigning honest sympathy. efrain jerks in surprise and can't quite meet her eyes. "you went quiet a while back."  
"yeah, efrain, what's wrong?" sar asks, and then winces immediately as efrain pinches his thigh as hard as he can.  
"nothing," he says on a shaky breath. "i'm- sorry, i keep thinking about- the professors. deadlines."  
"we don't have to stay," mag reaches out to take one of his hands and pats it gently. "we can get back, you can write whatever emails you need to-"  
"no!" efrain blurts out, at the same moment that asher inhales sharply and lets it out with a shaky, _wonderful_ groan.  
  
he flushes instantly when he realises that his friends have stopped talking and are staring at him. his mouth is dry and in his lap his hands are balled tight against each other. mag glances at his fists and tries very unsuccessfully to hold in a smirk.  
"and now you," she announces, letting go of efrain's hand and pressing the back of her hand to asher's forehead. he's sweating lightly. "you're warm," she says. asher stares into her eyes. she stares right back. "did you eat something weird? stomachache? poor thing. hello, waiter," she calls, and a man appears almost instantly. "can i get another glass of water, please?"  
  
the waiter disappears again, and mag sets about fussing. she checks asher's temperature again, presses the cold tips of her fingers to his neck in a show of providing some gentle relief, and is more than pleased to note that his pulse is hammering away. he tries to swat her away, but she grabs his hand out of the hair and presses a gentle kiss to his palm.  
"there, there," she says, and slips a hand into her bag to click a dial to the right. asher's fingers twitch, and then close around her hand tightly. she winces, and then outright hisses. " _asher_ ," she says. he doesn't let up. his knuckles have gone _white_ around her hand, and she's frowning. "asher, maker, let go, grab onto the table if your stomach hurts that much."  
  
something seems to get through to him, because he drops her hand, and just as quickly grabs onto the table, knuckles still white. mag rubs her hand tenderly. " _fuck_. are you sure you're okay? what did you eat, love? ah- thank you," she adds to the waiter, who has returned with the water and hovers when he sees asher's state. "he's okay, just a tummy pain, i've got painkillers in my bag. _thank_ you," she says again, and the sharpness of her tone sends the waiter scurrying.  
  
"asher, buddy," sar says. his tone is devoid of any real worry. "everything okay?"  
"mm," asher grunts.  
mag grabs her back and rifles through it under the guise of pulling out a painkiller, the picture of a caring girlfriend. she clicks the dial back one before she tosses it onto the table, and then leans back, utterly relaxed. efrain's cheeks are flushed darker than usual, and he's not making eye contact with anyone. sar catches her eye and nods.  
  
this is the best.  
  


* * *

  
  
two glasses of water later and one more dial crank to the left, asher has finally relaxed some. he's leaning against mag, who has a hand in his hair and is stroking his head gently, tenderly. she and sar are still talking about something utterly unimportant, like they weren't just witness to her boyfriend's public orgasm, like efrain isn't also suffering at the table with them, fists clenched atop it and his eyes squeezed shut. the waiters have started giving them dirty glances whenever they go by. they've definitely been there for too long, nursing one or two glasses of wine for as long as they can, and are just taking up the space when the restaurant has gotten steadily busier.  
  
with her boyfriend a limp noodle against her and idle conversation to uphold, mag doesn't notice when efrain starts fidgeting. it doesn't, however, escape sar's attention. he immediately adopts the biggest grin he can muster, and keeps shooting glances his way. _this_ has mag staring as well, already grinning in anticipation. they keep talking like they haven't noticed anything - and with his eyes shut, efrain won't be able to tell that they're staring - and they even pretend not to hear the tiny grunts and groans at the back of his throat.  
  
still, there's pretending not to notice little things and being unable to ignore something. their conversation - and that of more than a few tables around them - ceases completely when efrain straightens his back, throws his head back and lets loose a long, _loud_ , utterly self-satisifed moan.  
"holy shit," mag laughs as he finishes. efrain immediately slaps a hand over his mouth and slouches forward, eyes still shut. "holy _shit_."  
sar's chuckling as well. "feel better?"  
"i'm going to kill you," efrain mutters back. "i'm going to absolutely murder- _aaaahh_. fuck- sar, _stop_."  
"hm? stop what?"  
  
it's so endearingly funny that even asher laughs quietly into her ear. this only sets mag off harder. she's laughing til she can't breathe properly, tears starting to spring to her eyes as her friends argue with each other.  
"stop, stop!" efrain's saying, fingers scrabbling at the table for desperate purchase. " _in the name of all that's holy will you stop_ \- mag, shut _up_ , people are looking, sar, stop, _sto- oh- ohhhh_."  
  
he freezes, clenches his hands into fists and looks so upset that mag starts laughing harder. "efrain, h _oly shit_ , are you coming _again_?!"  
  
the moment passes. efrain comes back to himself and glares miserably at mag, who can't seem to reign in her giggles. the entire restaurant is silent. he covers his face with his hands and leans over to press his head against the tablecloth.  
"i'm going to kill both of you," he moans.  
"sar, i love you," mag says, ignoring him completely. "that was incredible. can you- once more-?"  
  
she sounds so hopeful that sar starts laughing, which sets her off again. efrain groans loudly. "have _mercy_. i don't think i can sit up properly."  
"if that's the case, one more can't be so bad, then," sar says, utterly unforgiving, with such a broad grin. mag whoops, overjoyed.  
  


* * *

  
  
the walk home is awful.  
  
efrain has been slung over sar's back, holding on with what strength remains to him. asher has one arm around mag, using her for subtle support, but he can still at least walk. efrain keeps groaning - not because of overstimulation, but because of his asshole friends.  
"i can't _believe_ we had to leave," mag's saying. "totally unfair."  
"very," sar agrees.  
"it's like they've never seen someone come before."  
"can't understand it at all."  
"i mean, maker, it wouldn't have been so bad if someone had just kept it down! asher got through - what was it, love, two? three?"  
  
asher mumbles something.  
"three, that's right," mag says. " _three_ , and all you thought was he was unwell. in comparison, that's just disgraceful-"  
"yes," efrain cuts across her. he sounds tired, but the snark is clear in his tone. "yes, it was _absolutely vital_ for us to know that your boyfriend can take more than me. it was important that the other hundreds of people in that restaurant knew that i was coming! all of them." he yawns. "we're _banned_ because of you, mag."  
"because of you, sweetie," she corrects, and pats him on the ass gently.  
"i'm never going on a date again," efrain grumbles. "not with you, not with the asshole carrying me, not with anyone ever again. _ever again_."  
  
asher squeezes mag's shoulder, and stops moving. "you guys go ahead," she says, still amused. "we'll catch you up. what's wrong, love?"  
asher waits a moment until sar has walked ahead, and looks down at her. his eyes are bright and his cheeks and ears are flushed bright red. he's an absolute mess, and the sight of him makes mag smile gently. "please," he says, and his voice is hoarse. "mag, please, i can't-"  
"can't go for another one? but you've been doing _so well_."  
"gghh," he says, and presses his lips together. his nostrils flare as he tries to gulp in air with his mouth shut. mag takes a moment to adjust his arm around her, and slides an arm around his waist. he's heavy, but not so much that she can't support his weight, and now he's pressing almost entirely on him. a gentle touch to his front of his pants confirms that they're sticky with come, and that he's hard again.  
  
"come on, love," she says, and kisses his neck gently. "forget about them, forget where we are, just come for me. look, i'll help you out-" and with her spare hand, she slides it into her bag. asher pants into her ear. "there," she says as she clicks her remote dial to the right. "feel that?" and again. "that's all me, love." once more. asher pants and sucks in another deep breath to keen into her ear. he's shaking. "my cock in your ass, deep as i can get." and again. she can only click it higher one more time. "come on, love, don't hold back. come for me."  
"please," asher says, high-pitched and shaky. mag smiles, kisses his neck once more, and turns the dial to the right once more.  
" _come for me_ , love, with my cock in you, fucking you where everyone can see..."  
  
she's rewarded when asher's whole body trembles, and then he's making strangled noises into her ear again, and when she doesn't let up he chokes out a sob. that's enough for the dam to break, and she's suddenly dealing with the rest of his weight slumping against her as he cries and makes broken moans into her hair. she pats his shoulder a couple of times, reassuring him that she's still there, and then glances over the road to where sar has carried efrain.  
  
they're staring. sar's mouth is hanging wide open. mag uses her spare hand to flash them a thumbs up - she can't be sure if they see or not - and when asher's moans hitch into a pitch that can only be called _broken_ , she slips her hand back into her bag to click the dial off. he doesn't stop sobbing, nor does he attempt to try and gather himself and carry his own weight again, he's too far gone for that.  
"good boy," she whispers, and then looks over to her companions again. "hey, guys, could you give me a hand?"  
  


* * *

  
  
they manage to half-carry, half-drag asher home. his legs don't seem to want to work properly anymore, and he doesn't respond to any of the gentle questions that are asked of him with english words. mag looks completely smug the entire walk back. when they're let into the apartment, there's a stunned silence between them until she looks sar and efrain dead in the eyes and wishes them a good night.  
"uh, yeah," they say, and make a retreat to their own room. mag has to bite back on a laugh. _that was too easy._  
  
but now she has asher to deal with, her beautiful, ruined mess of a boyfriend. she guides him to the bed, strokes his face gently, presses a kiss to his forehead.  
"you're gorgeous," she says, which earns her a tired smile. "try and get your pants off for me, love, i'll be back in a minute."  
she leaves him to his own shaky ministrations to grab a couple of towels and soaks them in the bathroom sink. she'd prepared this before she'd even gotten ready earlier - two towels waiting, a bottle of fragrant oil, clean clothes.  
  
when she returns, he hasn't managed to get his trousers off, but he's made an effort. the button's been popped and he's lifted his hips to pull the fabric down his ass, but hasn't got further than that. apparently the effort twisted the vibrator in him again, because he's shaking with his eyes closed. mag clucks her tongue lovingly.  
"let me help you with that," she says, and dumps her armful of things unceremoniously on the floor. she gets to her knees, unlaces his shoes, pulls them off gently, tugs his trousers down and off. they're thrown right into the dirty laundry pile. she tuts again when she sees the mess he's made of his boxers, and leans in for a kiss that presses him down against her bed so she can pull them off easier. into the laundry they go.  
  
"let's free up your ass before i get your shirt off," she says, and prods him into rolling over. he looks like he could fall asleep on his back like this, and it takes a couple of shoves for him to move. "legs apart," she commands, and he does so, slowly. "i'm sorry," she says as she plants one hand against an asscheek and feels for the best place for her fingers to grip the plug. "was that too much tonight?"  
"mmm," asher groans. she smiles, starts to pull gently, shushes him quietly when he makes raggedy noises again. "no," he says when it's free of him and placed on the floor.  
"no?"  
"no," he repeats. "was fine."  
"good."  
  
she stands, plug in hand again. "see if you can get your shirt off while i wash this thing off." she doesn't wait for a noise of affirmation, and disappears back into the bathroom. the flat is wonderfully silent - she suspects efrain is sulking in his room and can't help but chuckle. it's not hard to rinse the plug off and spray disinfectant on it, and she brings it back to her room, still dripping with water, to dry in there.  
  
asher has somehow managed to get his shirt off while still lying on his front. "hi," he says as she grabs the damp towel and kneels next to him on the bed.  
"hi yourself," she says as she spreads his ass and gently swipes the area. "feeling okay?"  
he makes a contented noise as she washes him with careful fingers. she keeps talking to him, quiet and soothing, little meaningless expressions and _i love you_ s. when she rolls him over again to take care of his front, she has to pause to register his dopey smile. "idiot," she whispers, utterly fond.  
  
once she's done cleaning him up and throws the towels into the growing laundry pile, she reaches for the bottle of oil she brought through. "want a massage?" she asks him. "or do you just want to sleep? you look worn out."  
"sleep," he says, eyes already closed. "don't care about that now. just want to sleep."  
"sure thing. give me a minute and i'll be there with you."  
  
she spends a little more than a minute getting ready for bed - she actually hangs the dress up, a first in personal organisation - and disappears to the bathroom to pee and brush her teeth before she joins him in bed, and she yawns when she does.  
"I had fun tonight," she says, getting as close as she can to him and wrapping her arms around him. his eyes are shut, but he shifts to accomodate her, lets her snuggle her head into the crook of his shoulder and presses a poor excuse of a kiss to the top of her head.  
"mag," he says, and yawns.  
"mm?"  
"don't stop," his voice is definitely hoarse - he won't be able to speak properly tomorrow. "ever. god, i love you."  
  
mag falls asleep with that warm knowledge pooling in her stomach and her heart.  
  
easiest fifty bucks she's ever won.


	2. Chapter 2

"so, i was thinking."  
"you want to be careful doing that."  
"shut up, smartass."  
  
mag grins into her reflection and finishes wiping the last of her makeup off. she tosses the wipe into the bin and twists to look at asher, who's reclining and watching her.  
"you know, i remember when you were _innocent_ ," she says. asher cocks an eyebrow. "you never used to swear. i think i've been a bad influence on you."  
"you _think_?" he asks, and smiles when she puts on an expression of mock-offence. "yes, mag, you're right: you're the worst thing that's ever happened to me, and i was much better off without you in my life. why, _why_ did you rescue me from outside that club? what did i do to deserve this fate?"  
  
"don't work it too hard," mag says, but she's smiling again, and crawls over the bed to straddle him. "so, you were thinking?"  
"yeah." but asher doesn't answer her immediately, content with shifting forward and up to plant little kisses over her shoulders. it makes her giggle.  
"what?"  
"you've gotten more freckly since it got sunny," he mumbles against her skin, and kisses a few more for good measure. she smiles, runs her hand through his hair.  
"so what's up?"  
  
he presses one last kiss to her shoulder. "i was thinking - did you want to go out again sometime soon?"  
"go out?"  
"with sar and efrain. i know," he says, pre-empting her laughter. "last time was kind of a mess. i don't think they'll let us back in there."  
"you _think_?" she echoes. "efrain wrecked his pants, they probably think you're dying of a terminal stomachache, and i laugh too loud."  
  
they share laughter at the memory, mag still sifting her fingers through his hair. "so you want to make this a regular thing?" she asks. "i just thought, it was so disastrous both times..."  
"barring the... the disasters, it's nice to spend some time with everyone. we don't actually hang out as a group very often."  
"that's because efrain _sulks_ ," mag starts, indignant. she's silenced by asher's fingers against her mouth.  
"i didn't say it was your fault, or anyone else's. just that we don't do it enough."  
  
she kisses his fingertips, bends to kiss the tip of his nose. he blushes prettily.  
"fair enough," she says. "so what did you decide? another restaurant?"  
"somewhere that won't ban us at first sight," asher confirms. "did you have any kind of food in mind? italian, maybe?"  
  


* * *

  
  
less than a week later, reservations have been made and plans with other people cancelled. the forecast is cloudy, but there's no promise of rain, so they all agree to risk it and bitch later if they get caught out by a storm.  
"we are seriously tempting fate," efrain says. mag and sar laugh at him, which prompts him to roll his eyes and storm back into his bedroom. they high five over his grumpiness.  
  
mag's pulling stockings out of her drawers when asher ghosts his fingers over the small of her back. she shivers, stops, straightens up and rocks onto her tiptoes to kiss him.  
"everything okay?" she asks when she pulls back and he tucks a loose strand of hair behind her hair.  
"yeah," he says. his voice cracks, and he clears his throat. "i just thought-"  
"hmm?"  
he can't look her in the eyes, and he's blushing again. "last time-"  
"you wanted to do that again? and here i thought you'd had enough of-"  
"no, that's not." he clears his throat again. "i was thinking maybe- maybe you could..."  
  
he doesn't finish his sentence, trailing off with a hopeful note in his voice. he glances at her face for an idea of how she's taking the suggestion before he looks down again, embarrassed.  
"you want me to-?"  
"only if you want-"  
"you're still mad about it, aren't you?" asher doesn't respond, and mag leans up to kiss him again, softer this time. "i understand. yeah- yeah. sure."  
  
asher doesn't seem to register her words immediately. she has to place a hand on his cheek. "sweetheart?"  
"yeah, uh, sorry. drifted off for a second." he laughs - he sounds nervous. "you're sure?"  
"asher, stop doubting yourself. i can do this, it won't be a problem."  
  


* * *

  
  
_this is a nightmare. i can't do this._  
  
she's having to close her eyes and breathe deeply every couple of minutes to reorient herself. this is so much harder than she thought it would be - she has to give it to asher, who takes this much better and with more grace than she does. every nerve in her body is alight, and she keeps wanting to fidget, to rock away from or press against the vibrations that are slow but steady against her.  
  
she's finding very quickly that drinking water is a good way to keep her hands busy, and a good cover. no one seems to have noticed anything out of the ordinary just yet. efrain's talking about his latest history assignment, sar is looking up at the ceiling as though he's bored, and asher is acting as though there's nothing more important than efrain's stupid essays.  
  
maker, mag is going to _die_.  
  
it's beyond her how asher is able to follow orders so rigidly, so well. she's having trouble remembering all of hers.  
 _hands on the table at all times._ she's probably going to leave sweaty handprints behind, but she's managing it. she's not even making fists with her hands.  
 _join in the conversation as much as possible_. she would be accused of acting strangely if she took a vested interest in whatever efrain was doing academically, so she gets to sit this one out.  
 _if you have to come, don't make a scene out of it. the last thing we need is another efrain situation_. she wants to laugh, and has to choke it back. she'd be asked what was so funny, and then efrain would get pissy again. it's not worth it.  
 _don't come more than twice._ that was going to be difficult, but not impossible, right? she wasn't asher, someone that could be broken so easily and reduced to begging in the middle of the street if she couldn't get her way.  
  
no sooner does she tempt fate with that thought, the vibrations pressed against her buzz a little stronger, and she has to swallow thickly. she takes another sip of water, tries to clear her throat, and to her credit, is only moderately embarrassed when it comes out as a pathetic whine.  
  
the noise attracts sar's attention. suddenly they've locked eyes across the table, and mag recognises her own look of thin-lipped refusal to give in on his face.  
"you too, huh?" he says, and then they're both laughing. it's glorious, to be able to laugh like this, gasping and panting as though they've just heard the funniest joke, and be able to get away with it, although she does get a sharp look from asher that has her shrink back a little.  
  
sar's still grinning when she recovers and collects herself again, and it takes an awful lot of willpower not to devolve into laughter again.  
"how do you feel about your chances, then?" he asks. mag straightens her back, adopts an air of superiority.  
"oh, you know," she says. the waiter rolls up with their food. "i think i have every right to feel confident, considering what happened last time. which reminds me - when will i get my money?"  
"money," efrain says. sar shushes him, which only makes him frown more.  
"at some point," he says. "whenever i have it."  
"don't make me go all gang-member on you and have to break your kneecaps to get it," mag says darkly. asher snorts.  
"you wouldn't," sar says.  
"she would," efrain confirms. mag smirks.  
  
"please let's stop talking about kneecapping people," asher says, the sole person at the table invested in sense. "dinner arrived, let's just... please not."  
"hear hear," sar says, and raises his glass of wine. "to a pleasant evening out amongst friends."  
the others follow suit. mag's hand is shaking, but she tries hard - so hard - to steady it. thankfully they clink glasses quickly, sip, and get down to the business of eating without further ado, but then she discovers that this is a problem she can't just ignore. she's still shaking when she lifts her knife and fork, and for a second she just stares, flabbergasted by the betrayal of her body.  
  
"everything okay?" sar asks. she's tempted to throw her utensils to the floor and sulk, but that would be making a scene, and she isn't allowed to do that.  
"yes," she says instead, and takes a deep breath.  
  


* * *

  
  
somehow, they make it through the meal without any major complications, but she is fidgeting by the end of it. thankfully, sar is as well. they keep shooting each other embarrassed but amused glances, each determined to outlast the other, no matter how difficult it is. it's easier to pose than to be able to do such a thing, however. mag keeps clenching her fingers and toes into tight balls as a way to cope. it doesn't do much for her. she's too close to orgasm to enjoy the evening out, and too far from it to fully appreciate everything going on in her underwear. asher has barely _looked_ at her this evening, and sar seems as though he's dealing with this well, although he's chewing on his lips like they did him a personal insult.  
  
she tries clearing her throat to get asher's attention, but that doesn't work. she puts a gentle hand on his forearm, and he _still_ doesn't look at her. she scowls, not used to have attention taken from her.  
"asher," she says. he shakes his head and motions for efrain to keep talking. "excuse me?" she says. her only answer is a short burst of stronger vibration, and it makes her gulp. "bastard," she whispers. "you didn't say you were going to _ignore_ me all evening, i thought this was meant to be a _date_ , not an attempt to get into _efrain's pants_?" he's still not looking at her and efrain is also ignoring her, so she continues her angry spiel. "at least i _spoke_ to you, i don't know what i did to deserve this-" she has to take a deep breath, but grits her teeth and soldiers on. "you fucker, stop ignoring me - _ah_ \- stop that, it's not going to get you, ugh, _ugh_ , out of trouble - asher - _asher_ \- oh, _shit_!"  
  
she covers her mouth as she says that last a little too loudy. she sees one or two heads turning her way and flushes darkly, shrinking into her seat a little. efrain finishes speaking, and asher finally, _finally_ turns to her.  
"sorry, mag, i didn't catch that?"  
  
she's going to kill him, and she's pretty sure he understands that. he actually shifts in his seat, the most she'll get him to proper terror tonight.  
"i said-" and she chokes, has to shut her mouth and eyes and pant through her nose as he pushes the toy to its maximum setting and keeps it there. it's _insufferable_ \- she's going to die or cry or explode - she leans her face against his shoulder and bites her lip hard as she struggles to contain herself through her first orgasm. it leaves her panting properly, chest heaving and eyes sparkling, and the second the vibrations die down to a more manageable level, asher is shifting away from her.  
"sit up straight," he says sharply, and she moans quietly, pitiably. "sit up," he repeats, and mag slowly, miserably, does.  
  
efrain and sar are gaping at her from across the table. perhaps they're not gaping at _her_ , but they keep looking at her - and very often, to asher as well, who moves so he can cross his legs under the table. he continues the conversation he was having with efrain as though there hadn't been an interruption at all.  
"um," sar says. mag keeps her eyes trained on the table, and remembering the rules, places her hands where she can see them.  
"uh," efrain confirms.  
  


* * *

  
  
the rest of the evening passes in a torturous haze. sar starts rocking back and forward not long after mag comes, eyes blissfully shut and uncaring that the rest of the table watches him help himself toward his own climax. he slumps against efrain, who makes such an offended expression, and when it becomes clear that efrain has no intention of stopping whatever's going on in sar's ass, presses his mouth against efrain's ear and starts making obscene noises into it. the less muscled man makes an expression that suggests he's not happy with the situation, and sar doesn't let up with the noises. mag would laugh if she wasn't concentrating on her own problems.  
  
despite the inconvenience of a messy boyfriend leaning all over him, efrain somehow manages to keep the conversation going. it's admirable, but he definitely seems as though he's having second thoughts here and there, pausing to look worried whenever sar or mag make quiet, tortured sounds. asher ignores it all, even when mag hides her face in her hands and tries to regain some measure of her dignity by sucking great lungs of air in. it doesn't work very well. tears are springing to her eyes by the time she presents her face to te world. she can't do this anymore.  
  
"asher."  
he's still ignoring her, but she's past the point of throwing insults his way now. she's whispering, not trusting her own voice.  
"asher, please."  
this is infuriating. at least she pays him _attention_ when he's begging - he's gotten so good at it, how could she not?  
"please, please, please-"  
how he's able to pretend like he can't hear her is beyond her, but then, much of her higher cognitive processing is at this point. efrain's staring. sar is staring. asher, realising that efrain isn't going to be answering him for a while, has stopped talking, but he still hasn't turned to her.  
"asher, please. _asher_. stop. _god, ah_ , stop, please, _please_ , god, _don't stop. look at me_ , damn it - fuck, _fuck_ , ple- _ahhhhh- please_ -"  
  
he chooses that moment to lean forward, chin resting in his hands like he's disinterested with the world, and asks efrain another inane question about his _fucking history assignment_.  
  
mag squeezes her eyes shut, tight, sucks in a deep raggedy breath, and shoves three fingers into her own mouth. she bites down on them hard as she comes, doing her utmost best not to cause a scene, not to do anything wrong, just wanting to focus on this one sensation-  
  
and then the bastard cranks the toy up high. she yelps in surprise, and then moans, long and low. asher still isn't looking at her.  
"mag," she thinks she hears one of her friends say, but she shakes her head and ignores them in favour of clenching her entire body tight tight _tight_. she comes again, so hard that the back of her skull pulses in time with her rapid heartbeat.  
  


* * *

  
  
mag doesn't remember the walk home. she remembers cold air on her cheeks and shivering, but everything else escapes her. she's been placed on her own bed and had a glass of water pressed into her hands when she finally comes back to herself.  
"mag?"  
 _you're finally paying attention to me_ , she wants to snap, but it comes out as "ggh."  
"drink the water."  
she makes herself concentrate on her limbs, focuses on lifting the glass and draining half of it. she's gasping when she surfaces again. she feels peaceful, and belatedly realises it's because the vibrator has been switched off.  
"how're you doing?" he asks her. a deep breath, and then she shrugs. "head okay?"  
"i think- mm. yeah." she drinks the rest of the water. asher takes the empty glass from her and moves it to her desk. when he returns, he kneels in front of her, and kisses her knees.  
"mag," he whispers, and kisses her legs again. she looks down at him, and he returns her stare. "i told you only to come twice."  
  


* * *

  
  
"i'm impressed," sar's saying. efrain's already in bed with a pillow over his ears and his hardon tucked into his pyjama bottoms. sar has to tug the pillow from efrain to get it back - it's his, and he can't sleep without one - and repeats himself. "definitely impressed. i didn't think she could zone out like that and then keep going."  
"i'm so _mad_ ," efrain hisses. "this didn't work out at all."  
"oh?"  
" _i don't want to have sex with you while listening to my flatmate getting fucked,_ " efrain clarifies. he pauses for emphasis, and they both ponder this as mag's cries, muffled, reach them through the wall. sar shrugs.  
"you win some, you lose some," he says, unconcerned.  
  
it's half an hour later when the noise finally quiets down. efrain hasn't lost his erection, but he's so sulky he refuses to let sar deal with it. he does, however, roll over to huff properly.  
"i should have bet on you," he admits.  
"what."  
"i should have realised that mag would enjoy herself more-"  
"efrain, i'm hurt. that's a hurtful statement. you didn't bet on me? don't talk to me."  
"sar-"  
"no. don't even touch me." sar scoots as far away as he can from efrain, who is definitely making a disbelieving face at him in the dark. "i cannot believe you."


End file.
